XCOM: Agents
by NavyFuji
Summary: My Favorite book is Starship Troopers, and I wanted to write a story with that first person feel, just less in depth and more fun. We follow Ian Yamada from his mysterious recruitment from college, to his integration with the squad and development as an X-COM Agent. Thanks for reading! Feedback please, This is a story in progress! Cover Art by Darcad DeviantART
1. Prelude and College

Prelude

11 March 1999:

Sumie breathed hard, forcing her body's gulps for air to slow down to deliberate inhalation and exhalation. Her armor was starting to get heavy, and pressed awkwardly into her shoulder as she leaned forward against the tree providing her cover. The all too familiar green pulses flew past her, blew up clumps of soil, and began rapidly turning her tree into toothpicks. She waved to Son behind her, pointed right, then held up three fingers. He nodded and brought his Autocannon to bear. He had it on full auto, and began sending short bursts of suppressing fire down range. After the third burst, Sumie broke cover and dashed through the densely packed forest, working her way around the soldiers taking cover behind a fallen tree.

As Sumie ran, sharp reports sounded from the direction of the Skyranger, and a high-pitched scream told her one of her snipers had hit his mark. Sliding behind another tree, she stopped to catch her breath again, hoping she hadn't been seen. Creeping slowly to her right to get behind some bushes for a little more concealment, she heard two more three-round bursts from Son's rifle. The soldiers responded by blowing the tree Sumie had been behind into toothpicks, getting another one of them hit by the sniper. Mikhail, she thought. He always shoots twice.

Pulling out one of the new grenades, Sumie peeked around the tree to make sure she had a clear throw. She could make out the tops of two of the grey, hairless scalps in the dappled sunlight below the trees. Deciding they were within range, and the branches were high enough, she ducked back behind the tree and set the alien explosive to what the nerds said was about 3 seconds. Mentally crossing her fingers, releasing the safe, Sumie stepped back and to the side just long enough to heave the grenade twenty-five meters, landing it right behind the fallen tree. Ducking back behind her cover, Sumie started counting, and got ready to sprint again.

Hearing a sharp "Oh shit!" over her headset, Sumie glanced back to her left saw Son drop at the sight of her grenade. Three seconds later, a maelström of ignited gas blew branches, roots, dirt, and best of all, grey body parts and green blood past her. Peeking around her now smoldering cover, Sumie saw her throw had been a little long, leaving a few pieces of the defenders scattered where the fallen trees had been. Not bad at all. Son started spewing curses on the radio, drawing a quick "Can it." from Lt. White. Sumie allowed herself a smile as she shifted her attention to the scout ship's door, only two dozen meters away.

* * *

XCOM: Agents

Chapter 1: College

2 March 1999

I walked slowly across the coffee shop toward the pretty brunette sitting near the front window. She looked up and smiled, giving me the courage to sit next to her and say "Hi, my name's Ian." She shook my offered hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Jennifer." I smiled hopelessly at her, and suddenly found myself in front of a fireplace with Jennifer Love Hewitt taking off her shirt...

*BANG BANG BANG* An impatient fist pounded on a door somewhere. "Wake up dude! We've got some ass to kick!" I try desperately to hold on, but find the fireplace, and the nearby couch quickly fading away. "You always suck when you don't eat breakfast! Let's do dis!" Just as she begins to undo her bra, Jennifer leaves me as well, and I find myself lying in my bed with not a trace of a fireplace or bearskin rug to be found. I grumpily look over at my clock, which reads 0803. Pressing my palms against my eyes, I try to savor one last moment with my dear, sweet Jennifer, but fail miserably. Grumbling, I roll out of bed and head down to the kitchen for some food.

"About time you woke up." Justin scolds me from behind his Chinese takeout box. "I thought I was going to have to play all by myself."

"How can you eat that stuff first thing in the morning?" I ask. Justin has no correlation with food and time, he just eats whatever he can find whenever he finds it. He's also insufferably energetic at almost all hours of the day.

"What? It's food right? It was good last night, why shouldn't it be good now?"

"You're weird."

"So?"

We eat the rest of our meal relatively quietly. Justin is too absorbed in his food to talk, and I'm still stewing about my missed encounter in dreamland. After breakfast, we climb into my old Celica and headed off to the Gym on campus for the racquetball tournament.

* * *

Later, after the tournament, I storm out to my car and toss my bag in the back seat, then wait while Justin hustles to catch up. As he sits in the passenger seat, I tell him "Whatever bro, we would have had Zach and Dave if your eyes had been somewhere in the court and not on Cherie's butt."

Justin at least has the decency to look reproachful. "But it's sooo niiiiiice..." I shake my head. At least Justin promised he'd buy me lunch since he made sure we lost in the semi-finals at the racquetball tournament.

Approaching our house, I notice a gold Altima parked in front. We pull into the driveway, and as we get out of the car, the front doors of the Altima open up and two men step out. The driver is a middle-aged white guy, brown hair, and a grey suit that has seen too many trips to the dry cleaner. The passenger is about my height, slender, serious looking, and wears a scowl that would make any samurai proud. They walk up to us, and the older man tosses the cigarette he is smoking on the ground, then steps it out.

"You Ian Yamada?" He asks me. Justin and I glance at each other, unsure how to react. I mean, we never really partied THAT hard. I decided best to just take the plunge.

"Yeah, that's me, what's up?" I stand with my arms crossed, trying to look professional and competent. All it does is draw a small smirk from the man in the grey suit.

"My name's Reginald, and this is my associate Mr. White." I notice Justin slowly edging his way over toward White. "I'm here in response to your application for an internship with our agency." I had filled out no application, and stated as much. "Sure you did." said Reginald. "...at the job fair this fall." Justin has begun slowly trying to touch White with an outstretched index finger, apparently fascinated by the man's gravitas. White brushes Justin's finger away. Reginald seems not to notice, and hands me a business card he pulled from inside his jacket. "When you remember, give this number a call." Glancing at Justin, his face turns up into a kind of disgusted sneer, like he's smelled something bad. "Idiot here isn't invited." Justin didn't seem to take offense, if he noticed at all, as he is still trying to poke White with an index finger, White deftly deflecting each attempt. Reginald and White turn away and get back in the Altima, then drive away.

Justin still holds the look of fascination on his face. "Dude, what the fuck was that?"

"I have no idea." I look down at the card in my hand. It's white with three lines of black courier print. The first is Reginald's name, apparently his last name is Yves, the second says only 'Recruiting' and the third is a local phone number.


	2. Never trust a recruiter

Chapter 2: Never trust a recruiter.

5 March 1999

Sitting in intro to physics, I pretend to take notes while I turn the card over in my hands. What could all this be about? I had never gone to any job fair. I was only a Sophomore, working at the grocery store to pay the bills. Career day was at least another year away. Yet Yves seemed to know me, and Justin as well. I had been stewing over Yves and White all weekend; it just seemed too Hollywood to me.

Justin had been relentlessly teasing me about it all week: "Hey! Earth to Ian! Spaceman, you gonna come back to base, or do I have to finish this beer you've been drinking for an hour?"

I realize I've been ruminating for half the class, and Prof. Urban is writing the homework assignment on the board. I which mechanically copy it down before packing up my stuff. I make idle chat with my study buddy Joe as we walk outside, then unlock my bike and ride home.

I drop my bag inside my room and lie down on my bed. I guess the rotational force of the fan makes my decision, because I find myself picking up my phone and dialing the number on Yves's card. A curt, but not impolite female voice answers, "Recruiting."

Phone calls never go as smooth as you imagine them. I pictured my self as James Bond, saying the exact right thing at the exact right time. What comes out is "Uh yeah.. uh, this guy came by and gave me this card with this number? Uhh..."

"Name please?"

"Regi.. I mean, uh Mr. Yves."

"Transferring, hold please."

The line goes silent with a periodic beep, presumably while Reginald Yves' phone rings on his desk. The line clicks and a familiar grumbly baritone picked up. "Recruiting, Yves."

I now realize I should have thought out what I was going to say, so I can sound a little like someone 'Recruiting' might be interested in recruiting. Instead I say something like this; "Uh, Hi. It's me Ian from the other day, the uh guy with the annoying friend. Anyways, yeah, just calling you, uh so..."

"Yeah Ian, I knew it was you already, fabulous new invention, caller ID. You may have heard of it? When can you come in?"

"What? Come in where?"

"To the office, it's right in the shopping center where you work. National Temps. How about four, right before your shift?"

"Um, ok. Wait, how do you know..."

"Great, see you then." *click*

Justin was working on his Tekken skills when I left. I said 'Laters', he said 'Peace', typical dude goodbyes. I'm wearing my work clothes to the... meeting? Interview? Whatever. White shirt with matching Navy pants and tie, my apron in my back pocket. Super classy, I know. I jump in my '91 Celica and drive 10 minutes to the Palm Paradise Shopping center. Funny I never noticed National Temps before, I figure I must have pulled carts from in font of all the stores by now. I park in the back half of the lot (company policy) and walk up to the storefront in the shopping center with a white sign and black impact text proclaiming there was indeed a 'National Temps' in my shopping center.

I push open the tinted door and step into a very sanitary lobby. White walls and celing, with a solitary door opposite the one I just came through. A few posters adorn the walls with pictures of people smiling in various professions; construction, secretary, lawnwork. The only furniture is a single desk with a 30-ish woman sitting behind it, looking very busy doing something on her computer. I notice there are no chairs for visitors.

I clear my throat, more than a little nervous, and say "Hi, I'm Ian, here to see Mr. Yves." Finally, a coherent sentence! Ok, I had practiced in the car.  
The lady looks up briefly, "You're expected, right through that door please."

"Ok cool, thanks!" She is already back to clicking away at her computer.

I walk toward the door, trying to determine where the Candid Camera crew could be hiding. I figure someone is going to jump out at me the second I open the door. Instead, all I get is a soft click as I turn the knob. The door swings quietly open to reveal a short hallway with two doors on my left. One is shut and blank, the other open and labled "Yves, R". I step up to the frame and see Yves at his desk in an old brown blazer and half undone tie, intently studing some paperwork. There's only one folder open in front of him, the rest of the desk is clean. At least there's a chair in front of this desk. I knock on the door frame to get his attention. He looks up at me impassively, then says "Yamada, good. Have a seat."

I obey, sitting in the Wal-Mart grade chair in front of the desk while Yves closes the folder. He continues by asking me a question. "Have you seen the movie 'The Matrix'?" I had, and replied as such. "Good, then you know about the blue pill and the red pill?" I nodded, having no idea where this is going. "Well you and I are Neo and Morpheus, except neither of us are cool and this is real life." That one made me sit back in my chair, even more confused than when this conversation started. Yves stands and straightens his tie, then steps around the desk to sit on the corner closest to me. "You've been selected to attend a unique training program in the defense of our beloved United States..." I open my mouth to ask a question, but Yves lifts a hand, palm facing me. "No, I can't tell you how or why you were selected, and I can't tell you what program it is, yet. Just shut up and listen to my speil for a minute. Shit, where was I?" He glances over at a picture of Ronald Reagan on the wall. To my surprise, something that almost looks like a smile quickly passes over his face.

He turns back to me and continues. "Yeah, beloved United States. Catch is, you've gotta lose everything. I mean everything. If you decide to join up, you're not going to work today. You're not going to play video games with Justin tonight. You're not going to get drunk and hit on Wendy Adams and get shot down again..." he finds time for a chuckle as my face flushes. "You are off the grid until further notice. Your Aunt will be informed of your decision to join a hippie commune and move to Europe... Hey, you're not going to throw up are you?"

I must have looked as shook up as I felt, because Yves leans forward and scrutinizes my face for a second. I lean back a little further and say I'll be fine.  
Yves straightens, satisfied for now, but still looks at me as though I were a wad of dirty toilet paper. "Ok, like I said, red pill or blue pill. In or out? You have to decide right now if you're coming or staying. Do you have any questions, besides dumb ones I can't answer?"

"Do I get one last phone call to my Aunt?"

"No, you may get one later if you make it through training."

"Can I go home to pack up some things?"

"You'll be provided everything once you get to training."

"What about Justin? My car? My lease?"

"We'll take care of all that for you. All your things will be packed up and placed in long term storage with your car."

I look down and can't help but frown. How did all this come about? One minute I'm ready to bag people's groceries for 8 hours, the next I'm being invited into some crazy super secret... what? I don't even know what I'm potentially maybe not signing up for. This is like something out of a movie...  
Yves seems to read my mind, as usual. "I know this all looks and feels like some elaborate trick or something out of a movie, but I assure you the threat is real. You've been selected for very specific reasons to be offered this opportunity. I'm not going to say it's a good opportunity, because it's not going to be easy or cushy." Yves stops for a moment, looking undecided about something. Then he stands up and buttons his jacket. "How about I let you sit for a few minutes? I need a smoke anyways. I'll be outside if you need me."He turns around to open one of his desk drawers and pulls out a crumpled pack of Menthols and a Bic lighter. I wonder if anything about this guy is ever neat?

He steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me with the desk, Ronald Regan, and the folder he'd been looking through. Hmm... The folder. Surely it wasn't left out by accident. I decide to take the bait and lean over to pull the folder toward me. It's a pretty standard looking brown, the kind personnel files are kept in, with two holes punched in the top of the pages. The front has a bold print 'X' inside an equally bold print circle and says in boldface, all caps "TOP SECRET NOFORN: FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY" along the bottom edge. The tab along the side has my name printed: "Yamada, I." I open the folder and find my school ID picture printed and stapled to what looks like a profile. I'm astounded at how much data they have on me. Full name, place and date of birth, my record in track in High School, my dual major, favorite color, everything. These pages are all on the left side of the folder. On the right is a bunch of odd looking graphs, the last page is notes. I skim these, picking up only a few phrases like "Good athletic base" and "Sufficient Intelligence". Wow, thanks. Then I read the one that floors me. "Potential for Psionic resistance." As soon as I read that, curiosity takes over reason. I know Yves left that folder out so I would read that exact phrase. That sneaky old bastard.

A few minutes later, I step back into the lobby of 'National Temps' and see Yves leaning against the glass store front, smoking what had to be his third or fourth cigarette. I step outside and lean with my back against the glass next to him. He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out his nose. "So?" he asks.

"I'm in."

"Oh yeah? What convinced you?"

"Ronald Reagan."

Yves chuckles. "He has that effect. They call him the 'Great Communicator', you know." He drops his cigarette and steps it out, just like he had done the day I met him. "Ok, let's get you going." With those simple words, I left it all behind. I would remain Ian Yamada in name only. As far as the rest of the world would be concerned I either never existed or am unreachable. As Yves and I step back into 'National Temps' and through the door into the hallway, I ask him what it is exactly I had just joined. Without turning, he says over his shoulder "X-COM."


	3. Interlude 1

24 February 1997:

A newspaper shuffled as its pages turned. The man closed it, keeping his place with an index finger as he took a sip of his coffee. The white ceramic mug had the letters NCIS in bold black lettering on the side. The morning sun filtered gently through the windows, softly lighting a dining table set for four, but with only a middle-aged man and woman seated around it.

Placing the mug back on the table with the softest of thunks, the man looked over his paper at the woman across the table from him. "He is completely certain this is real and possible."

She was resting her head on her hands, looking deep in thought as she rested her chin on her knuckles. "I know. He's taking both AP Physics and a physiology class at SPJC."

"Hmm? I didn't know he was going to SPJC, when does he go?"

The woman laughed, leaning back. She sipped her coffee, then clasped it with both her hands, resting it just over her breasts. "He goes on Tuesdays and Thursdays before he goes to work."

The man grunted softly, then placed the loosely folded paper on the table and pulled his glasses down to rest at the end of the chain around his neck. "I didn't even know he wasn't working that whole time."

"He's certain you'll make fun of him."

"For taking more classes? Never. Maybe he'll figure out all this telepsychonegenisis stuff is nonsense."

The woman smiled an affectionately at him. "Telepathy."

"Bah, whatever." The man grunted softly as he took another sip of coffee. He found his place in the paper, opened it with another rustle...


	4. Training

Chapter 2: Training: a.k.a. the worst time of my life.

X-COM is the acronym for the Extraterrestrial Combat Unit. This organization is beyond super secret. If I were so inclined, and around the age of ten, I might say 'Super-Duper Secret', but I'm not, so I won't.

For anyone that's never been through any kind of military training, it's impossible to describe how completely miserable it makes you. I know before I started, I had no idea exactly how much life could really, really suck. Growing up in America, we get used to certain things, like food when we want, running water when we want, TV, games, free time. Things like that. The other three guys in my class were all prior military and had been through the ringer before. Evan was a huge Navy Seabee from Ohio. Kurt was about my size, Marine infantry lieutenant from Maryland. James was also Marine corps, but he was an artilleryman, from Savannah.

We were spared the 'Hell Week' type training guys like the SEALS had to go through. They said any fighting we would do would be localized and short. No extended trips into hostile territory. We were all in pretty good shape, the other three from being Seabees and Marines, me from running track. There wasn't a definitive rank structure. Although Kurt was in charge of us for any group exercises, he mostly served as a spokesman. The first few weeks were classroom stuff. Learning about the history of the alien conflict and the aliens the guys out in the field had encountered already.

So far, we'd seen three kinds of aliens, with who knows how many yet to be discovered. The first ones the X-COM operators had seen were called Sectiods. They looked like they were straight out of some kook's abduction story; emaciated bodies with huge craniums and oversized, oval, black eyes. They were short, about as tall as an average 11 year old. The research teams figured they evolved in some kind of subterranean environment, explaining the need for smaller bodies and larger eyes. These guys were actually the reason I was even in X-COM. Apparently, some of the operators encountering them at one of the larger crash sites had reported very strange feelings and behavior. They would see flashes of their worst nightmares during battle, some even felt extremities trying to act against their will. After this report, the researchers started looking deep into the grey's brain. They found one organ near the base of the skull that, when stimulated, caused the same organ in other specimens to react at the same time in the same way. This faded over time. About 36 hours after death, the brains no longer started mutually reacting. They felt this was evidence of some telepathic ability, probably evolved to help communication in the dark twisting caves of their homeworld.

The second type were called Floaters. Now, I know the concept of aliens in general is weird, but these guys are crazy. All the specimens killed or captured so far had been completely surgically altered. Their legs, if they ever had legs, were removed, along with the majority of their torso to make room for a vial shaped apparatus that allowed them to glide through the air. The 'stem' of the device extended from the bottom of the torso almost up to the neck. There were several points surgically grafted from the ribcage and spine to the stem for structural support.

The third were the Snakemen. Despite their intimidating apperance, these guys were considered cake by the agents. They were assessed to be primarily engineers, which would explain their lack of combat skills. They looked like, well, snakemen. The were about eight feet long overall, although the front four feet were usually held upright. This is where the scientists think some heavy duty genetic engineering came in to play. They actually had 2 forward facing eyes and two arms, forming a kind of pseudo-torso on the part of the body help upright. Super creepy.

We learned how to operate some of the new toys the research teams attached to X-COM had been developing. Laser Pistols and rifles, medi-kits, and motion scanners. I had to learn the basics of marksmanship and how to do things like operate a grenade the other guys took for granted.

I learned all the things the military guys already knew, like yes your body can be sore for weeks at a time and you can keep going. Things like food and rack time became more precious than mounds of gold. You can get tons of stuff done between five in the... shit, 0500 and 2300.

We learned about interrogation resistance. We practiced shooting weapons of all shapes and sizes. The shooting days were my favorite. I loved watching military movies as a kid. You know, Ahnold and Stallone shooting guys up. I was going to get to do it for real. I learned to operate a US Standard M4 Rifle, a Glock .40, a huge SAW, and, my favorite, an RPG. We studied and practiced advanced infantry tactics, a lot. I quickly learned the only reason I was in this thing was that single line about Psionics I saw in my dossier, because Kurt, James, and Evan were all freaking pros. Luckily, we were all in this crazy thing together, and the guys helped me out, often at the expense of rack time. I went to bed bruised and sore every night, especially the ones James 'tutored' me in Marine Corps Martial Arts.

We all graduated, with no ceremony. We got a red "COMPLETE" stamp in our jacket on the "Agent training" line. I was assigned to the North American Base, while the other three guys were detailed to the American-run base in Vietnam. They had been hurting for operators after a bad mission involving a panicked and suicidal floater, and needed immediate reinforcements to field a full squad.

Yves was there occasionally. I would catch him watching us during random training events, classroom topics, always in some threadbare suit. He was also there at our 'graduation'. I ask him about my phone call home.

"You sure you want to call your aunt?" He asks.

"Yeah I'm pretty sure. She's all I've got left. Amber doesn't even answer my calls anymore."

Auntie Sharon is my Dad's sister. She lived right down the street from my old house back home. Mom was an only child. Amber is my sister. Ives told us one of the main criteria for choosing new agents was a dearth of close familial ties. I promise Ives I'd help allay any suspicions she may be having.

"All right." He says, and hands me the phone on his desk at the training facility.

I dial the number, the phone begins to ring. I hear a click, then my aunt's voice. "Hello?"

"Hi Auntie!" I say, more excited than I thought I would be at the sound of her familiar voice.

"Ian! What do you think you're doing running away! I haven't heard from you in months! Justin said some weird guys came by and just packed up all your stuff. Said they had a letter from you to just put it all in storage."

"Yeah, it's all true Auntie. I was afraid I wouldn't go through with it, so that last night, instead of going to work, I got on a plane to Ukraine to meet some Telepathy researchers."

"You can't be serious! Your scholarship..."

"It was all to help me learn what I'm learning here Auntie! I'm great, don't worry!" I hope I sound like me and not some liar that's lying with his liar face. My poor auntie doesn't deserve this.

"I can't believe you actually did that." I hear her sigh. "Well I guess if that's your dream, not enough of us chase our dreams..."

"Yeah, I'm really enjoying myself, plus there's tons of hot babes in town. Good motivation to learn Ukrainian."

She laughed. "Haha! Ok Ian. Well don't be a stranger!"

Yves shakes his head and taps on his watch. "Sorry Auntie, I have to get going. The calling cards are really expensive, and I don't exactly make a lot of extra money out here. Stay safe ok?"

"OK, you too."

"Bye Auntie."

"Bye Ian."

I hang up the phone. "Thanks Yves. I needed that."

He grunts. "Whatever, a promise is a promise. Better if she's not asking a ton of questions."

The next day, I was in the back of a black Plymouth Town and Country, on my way to join my first squad.


	5. FNG

Chapter 3 : FNG

10 April 1999

The drive isn't too bad. The weather is nice for the most part, and I'd never seen the Midwest. I ask Ives why we had to be in a Van for two straight days all the way from the East Coast to our base when we could just hop on a plane, to which he answers kindly: "Because you don't exist anymore dumbass, you're off the grid. What kind of ID are you going to show the guys at the airport? We prefer to not have you on Delta flight 1-oh-whatever so people can track you." I decide I need to talk a lot less around Yves.

About 1830 on the second day, the van turns off the main road and directly onto a long dusty road. Endless rows of corn press tight on both sides and a strip of grass down the middle of the road reaches up to brush the bottom of our van as we bounce our way down the country road. The sky is starting to turn a little bit darker blue as the sun starts its slow descent to the other side of the world. There are no clouds in the sky at all. Is this what they call 'Big Sky Country'? My musings go down several of these long windy paths by the time the narrow road opens up to a large, clear-cut field. There's an old ranch house in the middle of the field. Rocking slowly back and forth on two antique rocking chairs are an old man and woman, sipping iced tea and enjoying the late afternoon breeze. They each lift a lazy hand to greet the van; Yves and the driver wave back. I just sit, a little weirded out.

The Van drives around to the back of the house. The driver, Eddie, reaches up to the reading lights and pushes them in an alternating sequence. I wonder what he's doing, but after turning the lights on and off 4 times or so, a huge rectangle of the manicured lawn behind the house separates and swings down, revealing the mouth of a dark cavern below. Eddie flips on the van's lights, then drives down the grass covered ramp to a large garage about 30 feet below the surface. After we're completely in, Eddie messes with the reading lights again, and the grass swings back up behind us, leaving a solid metal wall. It's pitch black, with only the headlights of the car illuminating anything. After the ramp closes completely behind us, rows of fluorescent lights flicker to life in the celling. The garage is pretty big, large enough to hold a semi-truck. Eddie gets out of the van, then walks over to a panel on the wall. He pulls out an ID badge, swipes it through a slot on the panel, then and enters a code. I hear the whine of an electric motor spinning up. The floor lurches slightly, then begins a slow descent. As Eddie makes his way back to the truck, Yves turns to me with that wry look of his and says "Welcome to XCOM Base Alpha."

Still stunned, all I can say is "Damn."

"Not bad right?" Yves replies. "The best the world has to offer, and some of what outer space has given us, is down here. This base and the others like it are the best we've got against the aliens. The folks you're about to meet are the best scientists and soldiers we have. Don't screw this up Yamada."

"How come you guys didn't just use Area-51?" I ask.

Yves barks out a laugh. "You believe in that place?! Kid, that's just a front for the X-Files fans to gravitate to. I thought you had more sense up in that noggin of yours. Guess I was being overly optimistic"

I'm so excited; even Yves' surliness can't bring me down. I can hear my heart thumping like it's the day before Christmas. I've only seen a few vids of the inside of an X-COM base during basic, and I'm super pumped up to actually see one.

The lift finally comes to a halt. Another motor opens a large rollaway door on the same side of the lift the ramp from topside was. A tall, black man with close cropped hair steps into the lift area. He's wearing a plain, olive green t-shirt and jeans as he steps forward toward us. "Eddie, nice to see you." Eddie smiles and replies "How you doin' Mr. White?"

White turns to Yves and gives him a quick nod "Yves."

Yves, with his usual charm, grunts "White"

White turns to me. "You're Yamada?"

I decide to call this guy sir. "Yes sir, Ian Yamada, checking in."

"Good, nice to meet you, I'm Lt. Douglas White. I'm the lead for the Agent team here at Alpha."

"Nice to meet you, sir." I reply.

"Grab your stuff, I'll take you down to your room then we can head out on the tour."

I nod, say thanks and goodbye to Eddie, then move to say farewell to Yves as well. "You're not rid of me just yet sport. I'll be here for a couple days for a site visit before I head back out." I grab my duffel and swing it over my shoulder, then follow White into the base.

The hallways are well lit, with nice hallways and floors. As White guides me to the Agent's living quarters, I mention how nice everything looks. "X-COM recognized early on that this would be a pretty long conflict. Since we aren't allowed to leave base except for missions, they decided to make it a place we wouldn't hate. There are no set hours for anyone, not the engineers, not the scientists, not us. Aside from tactical updates and daily training, we're free to move about the base as we please. Everyone still works their asses off as a matter of course. We're in it to win it, and no one pretends it isn't life or death everyday down here, and out there."

We arrive at the living quarters area after about five minutes of walking. It's set up like an apartment complex, 3 levels with common areas in the middle. There's even a small garden on the top floor. All the agents are on this floor, since we have to be able to get to the hangar the fastest. "There's about 50 folks stationed here. You'll get to know everyone eventually. We'll probably run into most of them during the base tour." We stop in front of a door marked:

A-12

Yamada, Ian

White says "Here's you, drop your bag and I'll take you around.", then opens the door. Inside is a model of space efficiency and technology. The room is pretty small, about 10 feet deep and 8 feet across. Along the far wall is a full size bunk with drawers underneath and cabinets above. Closest to me on the left is a small armoire, with a desk after that next to the bed Overall the space is clean and Spartan, but comfortable.

I drop my bag off in the middle of the room, then turn back out to follow Lt. White. He continues describing everything as we walk around. "There's 10 agents here for now, although we have 20 rooms built up for us. Like I said, the top deck is our spaces." We turn a corner and head in through a door. "Here's our gym." I peek inside to see free weights, benches, treadmills, mats. The room is pretty big, especially for underground, there's a track that runs around the perimeter, with all the workout equipment in the middle. AC/DC is playing on the radio. There's a tall redheaded guy working a heavy bag, and a built Asian girl running laps on the track. Redhead seems oblivious to us; the Asian girl gives us a lazy wave as she trots by. White lifts his chin in response. "Hey Sumie." White turns to me. "That's Lindsey Hannigan and Sumie Yoon. You'll be working with Sumie as a scout on Alpha squad. Lindsey is our HWO on Bravo squad." I nod, remembering Yves' advice to say as little as possible for the first couple weeks until I get settled in. "Ok new guy, let's head over to the lounge next." I follow White out the door and back to the center of the level, then we take a left and go through another door. "Here it is, pretty nice huh?"

I nod, it is really nice. It feels like an old boys club, with dark green carpet, wood panel walls, a wet bar with a couple taps in one corner. There are high tops and lounge chairs scattered throughout the room. There's a dart board and shuffle board, a few of the lounge chairs are set in front of 2 big TVs with Nintendo 64s and controllers hooked up. Right now the TVs are playing news channels. There's a skinny black guy lounging in one of the chairs, reading a book. "Hey Donald, this is our new guy, Ian" Donald looks up from his book and smiles. "Hey, welcome." I wave. "Hi"

Lt. White continues; "We keep the fridge stocked with beer. There's a couple bottles of hard stuff too if that's your thing. 3 drinks per day if you want them. Most of the guys don't drink that much, but Mikhail always drinks his 'wodka'." White affects a low Russian accent when he says 'wodka'.

"Come on, I'll show you where the nerds and the gearheads work."

White takes me to the Labs and the workshop, where I meet a couple of the Scientists (Nerds) and Engineers (Gearheads). By now it's getting late, and I'm starting to feel the two days on the road. White mercifully lets me head to my rack. I take a quick shower and promptly pass out.

The next couple days I work out in the gym, play some video games and darts, read a little bit. We go out every morning for field exercises, working on integrating me with the team. I start to get to know some of the agents, minor stuff like where they're from etc., but mostly they politely make light conversation before a bit before leaving to talk to someone else. I ask Lt. White why none of the agents are warming up to me. "Don't worry about it new guy. It's hard for them to get to know you. You could get blasted before you even step in your first bubble. They'll be better after your first mission."

I wonder when that will be.


	6. Don't Die

Chapter 4 : Don't Die

18 April 1999

At 0532, the alarms start ringing. All traces of sleep flee as I realize this is for real. The alert Klaxons had not been preceded by "This is a drill". I leap out of bed and open my locker. Noting the green light on the display, I pull on my forest camouflage coveralls. Forgetting any attempt at personal hygiene, I dash out my door and start hauling ass toward the armory. As I round the last corner, I see Mikhail has beat me to the gear locker. He was checking out his Sniper rifle and Kevlar, but takes a moment to give me a smirk and tap his watch before heading off to the Skyranger. Asshole. I step up to the counter. Old, Crusty Sgt. Lopez is there, the team's gear in neat stacks behind him. He says. "You ready for your stuff?"

I nod, he reads off the serial numbers for my laser rifle and Kevlar, then issues me two grenades and a Medi-kit. I verify them on the checkout sheet by initialing each line. That's the American team for you, always with the paperwork. I heard from Mikhail the Russians just pulled whatever their assigned gear was off the rack and jumped on the plane. It would seem American bureaucrats were tenacious enough to infiltrate the most top-secret of organizations.

Sumie and Don had shown up behind me while I've been checking out my gear, and Lt. White has taken his usual place at the counter to wait. I give him a nod and a quick "Sir." He lifts his chin and says "See you on the plane." I walk a couple of steps away to strap on my combat belt and pull on my Kevlar vest without fastening it. Word from the nerds was we were getting new armor based on the alloys and ceramics the aliens used. It was supposed to be stronger and lighter, which was awesome, because Kevlar weighs a fucking ton. They even told us the Kevlar wouldn't help against a direct hit from an alien weapon. It's just there to protect us from shrapnel and the like. Still, I'll take it over nothing. I walk the rest of the way to the hangar, put in my ear plugs and open up the double doors, 'stepping it out' to quickly get up the waiting ramp of our Skyranger.

X-COM had quickly rejected all existing troop transports, as none of them fit the company's requirement to quickly deploy operators over an entire continent with the ability to Vertically Takeoff and Land. The American Osprey came close, but was too unreliable and lacked the speed of a jet. All the other competing models didn't have VTOL capability. The X-COM founding council decided all that was left was to commission a new aircraft. Designed and built in six months by the same consortium that made the Eurofighter, the Skyranger was a jet powered, long-range transport capable of supersonic speeds. A new engine material design literally stolen from BMW's mainframe gave the Skyranger unheard of fuel efficiency in a cruise configuration. This was due to the BMW ceramic alloy's ability to contain almost all the fuel combustion's heat and power, maximizing the engine's ability to convert fuel into thrust. Along with fuel storage in every conceivable place on the aircraft, this gave a Skyranger the range and speed to respond with up to 12 operators and gear from our base to any point in North America within three hours, and we could get all the way down to Chile in six. The two main engines in the back were capable of rotating from fully back to 20 degrees forward of straight down. A smaller engine of the same design was fitted in the front of the jet, serving as both the Auxuiliary Power Unit on the ground, and providing thrust via directional nozzles during hovering and vertical takeoff and landing.

The Skyranger looks like a C-130 after a diet, beautiful in a really ugly kind of way. Broski, our Plane Commander, is finishing up his walk around as I approach the plane. I wave over to him, he waves back a lazy peace sign as I step on the ramp. I climb aboard and pull off my Kevlar to rack it with my rifle and belt. It's probably going to be a long flight, no need to kill myself wearing all that crap before I let the aliens have a go. Mikhail is already in his seat, sitting legs apart and reading a book in Russian. I decide he doesn't have a soul.

The rest of the team files in, Lt. White last. Once we're all strapped in, he checks with the two pilots to make sure they're ready to go. He ducks through the flight station door back to the tube and briefs us on the mission, yelling over the loud whine of the APU. "Ok killers, word is the fighters shot down a large scout in the middle of some South Carolina woods. They said it looked like the ship took moderate damage when it went down, but it should be mostly intact. Pilots said it would be 2+45 for us to get there. Boss is very excited about this one, they think we'll have our first intact alien engine. That's it for now, strap in and settle down."

He takes his seat closest to the flight station. After he straps in, he gives us a thumbs up and we reply with the same to let him know we are ready. The pilots start the main engines as the flight platform lifts up to the surface. It must look weird to an outside observer, to see a perfect circle of grassland suddenly sink six feet,then slide away to reveal an unmarked, military grey, freak aircraft rising up from the pits of hell. As we lift off, I pull out my copy of Time Magazine and start doing my best to not piss my pants for three hours.

Two hours, thirty minutes later, we start strapping on our gear in preparation for the landing. The pilots will land about 2km from the crash site, to keep the aliens from shooting down the plane from the ground. After we land and the plane settles on its gear, we pull on our headsets and helmets. Lt. White leads the comm and video feed checks, everyone is good. The pilots wish us luck and drop the ramp. We file two at a time out of the Skyranger, forming up in two columns and start making our way to the crash. The early morning sun filters down through the trees and birds chirp to each other as we file through the spring South Carolina woods. I'm so nervous I can hear my heart pound. I force my breathing to slow down to something resembling a normal rate. I'm second back in the left column, with Sumie ahead of me and Son and Mikhail behind. Don, Mark, Lindsay, and Lt. White make up the other column to the right. When an alien ship is on the ground, it projects some kind of semi-permeable dome around itself that lets the aliens pump their atmosphere into the area and move around outside their craft. It's imperfect, and lets enough of our own atmosphere in for us to move about as well, albeit with masks. It only lasts a couple of days, giving the aliens a chance to repair their ship or be killed by X-COM. We, of course, prefer the latter. As we approach, I start to make out the faint shimmer of the dome. Lt. White calls for us to fan out into our teams. Sumie and I split up, taking point, Son takes position a few meters behind and between us with his Laser Cannon while Mikhail sets up with his old Dragunov on a hilltop to the left. Today is the first field test of the Laser Cannon, and we're all nervous about using it over Son's tried and true M240. The nerds said it was powerful enough to bust through any alien's armor, which we believed, but the capacitors took forever to charge. Three seconds being forever compared to the automatic fire of the M240.

Damn, I've got to calm down! Letting my brain wander all over while I'm about to be shot at is not such a great idea. I take position about 50m inside the dome. I can't see anyone else now, but I know they're there, quietly reporting on the comm net as they take initial positions. Once Lt. White hears everyone is ready he orders the scouts forward. Sumie and I start taking turns making our way forward through the forest, one of us always in cover or concealment. After we advance about 50m, Son and Mikhail move up to take new positions for cover.

"Lead, Bravo-Two. Craft sighted." Don reports over the comm net.

Lt. White copies the location and marks it on his tactical HUD, displaying it to the rest of us. "Alpha, continue your sweep to the west and clear out the perimeter of the dome. Don's got eyes on the door. Bravo will move into position and maintain watch on the door."

Son rogers up and directs Sumie and I to push our sweep to the left and around inside edge of the dome. The ground is pretty good for being sneaky. It had recently rained, softening the dry leaves on the ground, allowing Sumie and I to move about with barely a rustle. I cover her as she moves forward, Laser rifle up, her torso still as her legs pump beneath her. She slips between the trees to find new cover, head twitching back and forth as she scans for threats. Good, I'm focused now, mind on the job. She stops ahead and to the right of me, behind the cover of a large tree, and it's my turn to move. I snap my rifle up to just below my face, trigger finger along the frame of the gun and eyes downrange. My head twitches back and forth as well as I scan the forest for grey Sectoids or pink Floaters. As I advance, I catch the tail end of a red cape disappear behind a tree in front of me. I duck behind the nearest tree, putting it between me and the cape.

"Lead, Alpha-Two. Tally Floater." I quickly check my HUD. "It's zero-two-zero at twenty meters."

Lt. White responds immediately. "Roger, marked. Alpha-Four, clear to engage."

Mikhail's slow Russian accent. "Alpha-Four copies, clear to engage."

I lie down behind my tree, letting just the corner of my face slip from behind the tree at ground level. I wait to see if the Floater will come from behind his cover. He apparently didn't see any of us, because he does come out, gliding silently just above the ground. I try to stay cool, but the sight of my first alien with one of those guns of theirs really unnerves me. Luckily, Mikhail isn't as green as me, and the Floater's pink chest, then head, explode in mist just before I hear the two reports from Mikhail's Rifle.

"Target Down."

Just like that, my first kill. X-COM doesn't track individual kills. We count any kill by a squad as for everyone. The idea was, without me spotting the Floater, Mikhail might not have been able to pick it out. Scouts like me and Sumie are part recon, part sniper spotters.

Lt. White comes over the net. "Nicely done One. If they didn't know we were here, they do now. Continue your sweep inside the dome."

Son responds "Wilco."

We continue our sweep, Sumie spotting the next two Floaters. They go down similar to the first. They were more on the alert, but Mikhail cooly lit them up as soon as they came from behind cover. "Target Down". It's satisfying to watch the crimson dots pop up on my tactical display only to be replaced by the white dot of a corpse shortly after. Team Alpha completes the sweep of the dome and joins up with Team Bravo by the door.

Entering the UFO is the single most terrifying part of any mission. The aliens keep it pretty dim in there, and they have the tactical advantages of ambush and home turf. X-COM adopted as many SWAT building clearing tactics as they could, with some extra bonuses like the luxury of being able to toss grenades into rooms before we go blasting in. The doors are surprisingly not locked from the inside, so we can enter just as easily as the aliens. This is consistent with the idea that the aliens haven't encountered anything capable of resisting them in a very long time.

Lt. White gives us fifteen minutes to catch our breath and see if any curious Floaters come out to see what happened to their buddies. No luck today. "Ok team, entry plan Yankee-One." Yankee-One is X-COM standard entry procedure in the absence of any kind of extra intel on the ship or particular desire to capture aliens alive. It basically involves me opening the door, then Sumie and Don toss in some grenades, we all get out of the way for the boom, then Lindsay and I come back in, NVGs on and guns blazing. After we set up in covering positions inside, we give the rest of the team the go-ahead to follow us in. Mikhail covers the door while we set up, Sumie and Don ready to follow us in. Son and Mark are probably not going to get to use their new toys today. The insides of a UFO are too cramped and fast paced to use a slow firing power weapon.

Ok, we're all set up. I can feel the sweat starting to bead all over my body, and I start wondering if I'll be able to hear Lt. White over the efforts of my heart to jackhammer its way out of my chest. Then it comes. "Plan Yankee-One. Go."

I slap the patch of hull that slides the ship's door up and away, then immediately step back. Sumie and Don toss their primed grenades into the hatch and step behind Lindsey and I as the door closes. THUMP! THUMP! The two grenades go off in quick succession and we hear blood-curdling, supremely satisfying, alien screams from inside the ship. I slap the patch again and Lindsay rushes in, followed immediately by me. He's firing into the gloom and smoke before I'm even in front of the door, sweeping from center to right. I follow right on his back, sweeping on full auto from center to left. I catch two green glowing eyes in the green glow of my NVGs and focus my fire just below them. I can feel the heat from my rifle's capacitors as the heat sinks strain to keep up with the rainstorm of coherent light I'm pumping out. I hear another scream and see the two eyes fall back as I continue to follow the inside of the wall to my left. I don't see any other targets, and, lacking any sort of cover, kneel down in the corner closest to the door.

I report in. "Left clear, one down." Lt. White copies.

Lindsey checks in. "Right clear, no targets." Lt. White copies again. "Roger, well done. Smoke clearing up?"

Lindsey and I both respond "Affirm." "Roger, NVGs up."

We snap our NVGs back up over our helmets. "Second team, go." Sumie and Don move in, and I get a chance to see the inside of a UFO for the first time. It looks like the entry area is some kind of empty cargo space, rectangular with uniform grey hull. It doesn't have any reinforcing structure, probably because of the crazy metal they use. There's two corridors that lead further into the ship, one to the right across from my corner, and one to my left as I kneel in the corner. There's one Floater body on the ground, taken out by the grenades, and mine, lying across the entry to my left. There's not too much blood from that one, laser beams cauterize the wounds, but the one taken out by the grenades is oozing this green and red, thick, stinky mess. I'm still so hyped up, I don't notice the smell much. Don and Sumie move up to the corners leading to the corridors and take position to cover Lindsey and I as we move to the doors.

"Ok, we're going to take it nice and slow. Ones, get behind your twos and start clearing. Son and Mark will cover."

We copy, and I move past Sumie into the corridor on the left, making sure to 'check my corners'. The first door is a couple meters down on the right wall of the corridor. I kneel on both knees just to the right of it against the same wall. Sumie comes up behind me and slings her rifle around on her back and grabs the back of my Kevlar vest. Son sets up on the far wall to cover the door.

"Ready?" She asks me. I'm pretty sure my heart has cracked a few ribs by now. I take a deep breath and firm control of my bowels then reply "Yup.".

I slap the door open and wait for the clear from Son. He nods, and I hold up my left hand, counting down 'three, two, one,' then I make a fist and jerk forward to get a look at the room eyond the door. Sumie immediately jerks me back. "Clear." I tell my squad. They nod, and Sumie slaps my helmet and gives me a smile. I grin sheepishly back, glad for the encouragement.

One door down. One to go. Over the com, I hear the other squad calling the first corridor clear. They have the more dangerous job today, their door leads straight into the control room of the UFO, with a lot more places for an alien to take pot shots at them. We usually don't get to toss grenades around after the first room because the techies need to look at alien stuff so we can replicate it, but it means the chances of us getting shot at go up. Luckily, Floaters in particular have proven to be not the best soldiers, and we've kept everyone alive today. The room between us and the control room is pretty small, just a table with no chairs. I guess the floaters don't need them. We move up to the next door and repeat the same tactics as the last one to get a peek at the corner of the room the other squad can't see. It's clear again, and we move in to the control room. They've shown us footage of previous missions, so I know what to expect stepping in. There's still no support structure, and the control stations are across from the door we came through. Just a flat display above come kind of keyset. There's indecipherable images flating around on the screen, and I wish the nerds luck figuring it out. Meanwhile, in the 'back' of the control room to my right is one last door to the central room on the craft. This is where they figure the power source for the craft is located, and by our count there's one more floater hanging out in there. Maybe the Engineer.

Lt. White is thinking the same thing. "Ok if the thing in there is unarmed, don't kill it. I'm coming up with the stun rod." The stun rod is basically a three foot long, electrically charged stick with a handle. The idea was, you whack something with the stun rod, it crosses its eyes and falls down, knocked out but alive. Don and I do Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who has to peek in the room. I lose. Sumie and I set up to clear as Lt. White comes in to the control room. He gives us a nod, Don slaps open the door, and I peek inside the room. It's surprisingly empty. Just a couple displays on the walls, and what looks like an upside-down funnel in the center of the room. The whole thing is about seven feet tall, the conical base coming up to about my waist and the cylinder on top emitting a creepy orange glow. The base is a darker version of the metal the rest of the craft is made of, and the column coming up out looks like a nebula contained in a jar.

In the far right corner of the room is a floater, trembling with empty hands. As Lt. White quickly strides up to it, it attempts to cower, which is pretty comical, given the fact it has no way to crouch. It just kind of covers its face and waits for the imminent blow. Lt. White doesn't keep it waiting, he whacks it upside the head and it goes limp, dropping to the ground as its anti-grav fails and it topples over like an empty glass. Lt. White toes it to see if it's really passed out. He gives a satisfied grunt and holds the stun rod up to look at it. "Damn thing works after all."

I breathe a huge sigh of relief and feel the five pound knot in my stomach start to slowly unravel. I might be good by the time we get back to base. Lt. White walks over to me and gives my helmet a slap. "Nice job new guy." Sumie smirks at me and nods, Mikhail just looks disinterested.


	7. I think therefore I am, I think

19 April 1999

The day after the mission, I'm feeling pretty euphoric. I've seen my first aliens, got to blast one, and none of us even got shot at. The other agents are starting to warm up to me a little bit. I hang out in the lounge a little more, even win a couple rounds of Goldeneye. Sumie invites me over to the bar for a couple beers and we trade stories about growing up. She's from Hawaii, did track and field growing up, even held the shot put record for her high school. "I was really surprised when they told me I was going to be a scout, I was sure I was going to be a HWO. Apparently I did really well in the reaction test though, so they decided I'd make a better scout, something about staying alive longer or some bullshit. It actually did come in handy a couple times." She takes a sip of her beer and puts it back on the bar. "So we're on my second mission right, we've been clearing houses for an hour, and I get lazy, forget to check my corners. Next thing I know I'm face to head with this grey, so I whip my rifle up and blast him before he can even blink. Pa-POW!" She makes an invisible rifle with her hands and shoots into the empty space across the bar.

Donald has apparently overheard her. He calls out from one of the lounge chairs. "You forgot to tell him the part about how you screamed like a little girl and fell on your ass while you were doing it."

Sumie tosses her head back airily. "I don't see what that has to do with anything." I take a long drink from my beer to hide my smile.

It feels good that the team is starting to accept me. I know I'm still pretty green, but at least I can shoot the breeze in the lounge without feeling like an alien. Mikhail still doesn't talk to me, but he doesn't really talk to anyone. We get the day after the mission off, but after that it's back to the grind, morning training every day, workout in the afternoons, watch some movies, read some books, spend some rounds at the range.

22 April 1999

Three days after the mission, Lt. White asks me to stick around after the morning fieldex. "Yamada, the nerds want you to head down to the labs this afternoon at 1300. Ask for Jessie when you get there."

My curiosity wildly out of control, I calmly reply "Yes sir."

I wash up and grab some lunch before heading to the labs. I open the small port in the heavy blast door and step through into the main room where the nerds try to figure out how to turn the aliens' gear against them. The room is about the size of a high school gymnasium, with white walls, low ceilings, stainless steel, computers, and all kinds of other whiz bang equipment I know nothing about. Looking around, I can see seven of the scientists in various levels of lab dress. One guy is in jeans and a t-shirt pecking away at a computer keyboard, another is in full lab coat with a tie and everything, bent over what looks like some of the alien alloys. I walk up to the young looking guy in the t-shirt at the computer and ask him where I can find Jessie. Not looking away from his screen, he replies "Hmm?" then turns to me, continuing to look at the screen until the last moment. "Oh, you must be the guy." He turns to another of the younger looking nerds in a flannel shirt. "Hey Jessie, the guy is here!"

Jessie looks up from the book he's studying, pushes up his glasses, then smiles and walks over to me. He's on the heavier side, with a goatee and crooked teeth, I've seen guys that look just like him hunched over a table, rolling dice and moving little figurines around. "Hey, I'm Jessie." "I'm Ian, nice to meet you." "So you're the guy huh?" He looks me up and down appraisingly. "Well sounds good. Come on!" He starts walking briskly over to one of the doors leading out of the main room. A little confused, I look at the guy at the computer again. He just shrugs and turns back to his terminal. I jog over to catch up with Jessie, catching up just as he heads through a door.

We walk down a short hallway, then turn into what looks like a classroom with a large TV in the front and several tables with chairs all facing the front. Jessie urges me to take a seat in one of the chairs, then walks to the computer at the front of the class and turns on the TV. He pulls up a video. "I want you to watch this video closely." The playback begins, and I see the grisly site of three sectoids with their skulls and brains opened up. There are three men and one woman in lab coats and holding clipboards around the autopsy tables. Another man in a lab coat approaches from screen left with what looks like some kind of prod. Jessie pauses the video. "I want you to pay attention to the purple, golf ball sized organ in the center of the brains." He grabs a pointer and points them out to me. I nod. "OK". Jessie resumes the playback. I watch as the guy with the probe steps up to the left most alien, then pushes the probe carefully into its golf-ball organ. He nods to someone off camera, then I hear a detached voice say "Point-five milliamps." nothing happens. "One milliamp." Suddenly the golf ball with the probe in it starts to twitch, then stops. "One-point-five milliamps." The golf ball twitches again. "Did you see it?" he asks.

"Yes, when the probe applies one or more milliamps, the golf ball organ reacts by twitching." He nods, "Watch the one-point-five milliamp pulse again, but this time look here, and here." He points at the two other alien's golf ball organs. He rewinds the video a bit, then presses play. The detached voice intones "One-point-five milliamps." This time I see it, all three of them twitch exactly in synch when the voltage is applied. I can't help myself. "Holy Shit."

Jessie smiles; "Holy shit is right. We're almost certain this is the organ the greys have been using to mess with our agents' minds when they're in the field. Most of us nerds aren't fit enough to go running around and getting shot at, and most of the agents don't have the academic background you do. Next time we run into the greys, we want you to try and capture one alive. We're hoping you in particular will be targeted by the aliens so you can report back what's going on in your head."

I'm still a little stunned at what I've just seen, but have never been more excited in my life. "Of course I will." My childhood dreams of being able to read people's minds like Professor X are suddenly not so far-fetched. I think back to what I saw in Yves' office that made me say yes to joining this crazy outfit in the first place. I decide to ask Jessie to see if he knows anything.

"Jessie, when I got a glance at my record earlier, I saw a line that said 'Potential for Psionic resistance'. What exactly does that mean?"

Jessie coughs a bit, pushes up his glasses, then looks at me as though he's deciding something. "Well, you're here, so I guess no harm in telling you. We've been trying to figure out what kinds of signs may be indicative of people who may be more resistant to these psionic attacks than others. Obviously, there's no hard science behind this." Jessie looks a little more uncomfortable now, looking down and picking invisible flecks of stuff off his shirt. "We uh, just kind of figured with your relatively well known pursuit of human psychic ability, you might be better suited to fight against it since, well, you already believe in it." Jessie looks embarrassed. I guess it's tough for a hardcore scientist to admit they're basing something just on belief and faith. I sympathize completely.

I grab Jessie's shoulder and give him a gentle shake. "No worries Jessie, I'll do my best not to die. Promise."


	8. Mutons

X-COM: Mutons

Date: 23 April 1999

Lt. White's voice comes over the comm net once we've all got our gear on. "Ok, we're touching down in five mikes. Get good and hydrated before we pop the hatch, the pilots said it's one oh two down there, so you'll dry up fast once we see some action. Looks like the UFO landed pretty hard, we'll see how many survived the crash."

I open up my water bottle, then down the last half of it before screwing the top back on and putting it under my seat. I grab my overhead bar and get ready for the shock of landing. Broski's voice comes over the PA. "On deck now... now... now." The Skyranger bumps a little, but Broski gets us down smooth. White asks for final checks from everyone, he gets seven thumbs up back. "Ok Broski, pop the hatch."

The ramp separates from the back of the plane and starts to swing down. Immediately, a blast of hot, dry wind sucks the air out of my lungs as it replaces the cool, air conditioned atmosphere I enjoyed for the flight over. All I can think is... Nevada sucks. I'm first out today, with Sumie right behind me. I step down the ramp, boots clanking on the metal until I hit the sand and bush. The UFO's Atmodome is easy to see downrange, shimmering in the desert sun. This one is another large scout like my first mission. I wonder if they'll be Sectoids this time, or Floaters again. Doesn't matter too much, we're going to do our best to kill them either way. The terrain is a little hilly here, so I move to the left to put one of the hills between my team and the UFO. Don leads his team off to the right. They've got a bit further to go to the nearest cover, so it looks like we'll be door guard this time around. Sumie moves off to my left and behind about 10 meters, Son and Mikhail another 10 behind her as we move toward the hill in formation at a brisk walk. The altitude and heat are definitely taking their toll, I'm a little winded and a complete sweaty mess after covering the 100m to the hill. Once we get there, Son reports we're in position. Lt. White rogers. "Copy. Have Yamada poke his head over the hill and see if the door is on your side." Son replies "Wilco." and looks at me. I nod my head and start making my way up the short hill. As I near the top, I drop to a crawl and poke my head over the top of the hill. I see the UFO, identical to the one from my last mission. The door is on our side and... "Oh shit!" I duck back down.

"Alpha One, Lead, Report." Lt. White sounds irritated.

"Lead, Alpha One, unknown alien sighted next to the UFO."

"Go ahead."

"It..." I try to think how to describe it. "It looks like a big green Lindsey." I hear Lindsey mumble something about hurting me over the common net, drawing a quick 'Can it' from Lt. White. I'm too freaked out to smile, so I try to continue describing the alien. "It's about two meters tall, humanoid, and wearing some kind of skin tight green suit. Looks like it's carrying one of the heavy plasma guns."

"Copy, standby while we get into position."

"Roger."

I switch to the squad net. "Son, I'm going to go back up and peek over the top with my mirror." Son replies "Rog. Be careful."

I turn over and pull out my mirror, making sure the sun is behind me so I don't reflect it back to the UFO and give away our position. Peeking over the edge, I get a better look at the... thing. It's still facing away from me, so all I can see is its green back. The thing is huge, with rippling muscles on top of muscles. As I watch, it starts making its way around the UFO, maybe to inspect damage.

"Target one bears 330 at 45m. Moving westbound to circle around the craft."

The red enemy designator dot pops up on our HUDs as Lt. White acknowledges my call. "Roger. Wait until it gets out of sight. Alpha Three, I want you and Alpha Four on overwatch from that hill. Alpha One and Two, sweep to the left a little and cover the angles to the door."

Son copies the orders and works his way up alongside Mikhail to the top of my little hill. He slaps my helmet. "Good job Ian. You and Sumie move to that next hill to the left. I want Sumie watching the door with us, and you scanning the 'Dome to the west."

"Rog." I wait for him and Mikhail to get their Laser Cannon and Drogonov set up, then Sumie and I work our way to the next hill over. When we get there, we set up about 10m apart, her watching the door, and me the close side of the UFO and the rest of the 'Dome. I don't see any sign of the alien or any of his buddies, and hunker down to wait for Bravo to come around from the right.

Suddenly I hear the very loud, very terrifying sound of plasma weapons firing. Lt. White's voice snaps over the net. "Get down Mike! Bravo, fall back and get some cover. Alpha, Bravo has been sighted, falling back. I don't think they're aware of your unit, expedite sweep around UFO to flank the enemy."

Son acknowledges with a terse "Roger. Alpha, on squad net." I click over to the Squad only net, leaving only Son in contact with Lt. White and Bravo. I hear Mikhail and Sumie check in as I come up. "Two's up." "Four's up." I check in; "One's up."

Son quickly passes out instructions. "Ok, let's get moving around this thing. Line ahead, stop and dash, STAY BEHIND THE HILL." We all roger up. Since I'm One today, I scoot back down the hill a little bit, then start dashing along the slope, keeping it between me and the UFO. As I reach the end of the hill on my right, I start to slow down a bit to make sure there are no nasty surprises for us around the corner. I hold up my fist, palm forward, to let everyone know I'm stopping. Looking away from the hill, I see the carcass of an old cactus lying on the ground I can use for cover, then take a quick peek around until I can see the edge of the UFO. It looks clear so far, I'm guessing the aliens are pretty focused on killing Bravo right now. I pump my fist, palm in toward me; to let squad know I'm continuing to move, then make my dash toward the cactus. As the sweat starts pouring down all over my body, I feel my muscles start to complain about the strain and lack of oxygen.

As I approach the cactus, I slide behind it and peek back toward the UFO to make sure it's still clear. So far, so good. I scooch to my left a bit behind the cactus and wave to Sumie to follow, she dashes and slides to the cactus and takes up position to cover my next move. I hear Son come over the net again. "Mikhail, see if you can get visual on the aliens attacking bravo."

I hear Mikhail respond with a low "Da.", but I'm already dashing to the next hill to make my way around to the far side of the UFO. Lt. White has marked what hostiles he could ID so far. As I make my way around the back of the hill, I watch three angry red dots make their way from outside my field of view to ahead of me and to the right. The distance marker reads 30 yards, so they must be behind some kind of cover around the end of my hill. I take a quick glance back, and see Sumie is following me behind the hill. Son is behind the cactus still. Mikhail is on his back, peeking above the ridge of the last hill with his mirror. I hear him come over our squad net. "I have wisual. 3 targets behind right wing of UFO and large cactus. Big hole in top of UFO."

Son replies "Roger, can you get a shot at them?"

Mikhail; "Da, I can take at least one, stand by."

I don't have time to watch Mikhail; I already have my mirror out and am peeking around the edge of my hill. I have to scoot along the ground twice before I see the same, or what looks like the same, green back I saw before. I report to Son.

His reply is quick: "Roger. Grenade."

"Copy." This is going to be badass. I swing my laser rifle around to my back, then pull a grenade off my belt and set the timer to 0 so it explodes on impact. Holding my rifle clear with my left hand, I step left just far enough to see my target. Heaving the explosive, I immediately take cover back behind the hill. a second later I hear a loud "BOOM!" and satisfying alien screams.

Son's voice, "Mikhail, status!"

"Direct hit with grenade. Targets all up, one looks like it is cut up, Fall back now."

Targets all up? What the shit, I nailed that thing...

I see a yellow ball with a blue stripe fly by, Sumie's proximity grenade lands just on the other side of the hill, directly on the path the Aliens should take. I decide running away would be a great idea. My feet slip a couple times on the sand as I try to start running and get up at the same time. They finally take traction, and I start a headlong dash back to my cactus. Sumie is already set with her rifle pointed straight at me. I see Mikhail's rifle kick, then hear the report a split second later. He has to fire four times before I finally hear "Target down."

Suddenly, I stumble forward as a wave of heat and pressure blast past me. Apparently one of them has found Sumie's grenade. I pick myself back up and half stumble/half dash behind my cactus just as I see Son and Sumie open fire over my head. Scotching tactically around the end of the cactus to take cover beside Sumie, I whip my laser rifle back around right as green plasma bolts start flying overhead. They always say time slows down when you're deep in the shit. It's true, but it's a little more like you're hyper aware of everything happening around you, so you're moving through this slowed down world equally slowly. Everything is reduced to the loud reports of Mikhail's rifle, the loud whine of the alien plasma weapons, and the sizzle of our Lasers superheating the air. I see Mikhail's smoke cloud begin to build as he tries to find new cover; Son has whipped out the tripod on his Laser cannon and is in prone position, carefully aiming each painfully slow Laser Cannon shot. Sumie is next to me, blasting away at full auto, I slowly whip my head around to see one of the aliens fully upright and walking toward us, heavy plasma at his hip, green streaks of death flying out of its business end. it shrugs off Son's laser hit and two by Sumie. It's clearly trying to get Mikhail; the shots are all going into the smoke cloud where Mikhail used to be. I take a split second to wonder if Mikhail is still alive then start blasting the juggernaut in front of me. It suddenly jerks back its right shoulder, then a leg as Son blasts it again and Sumie and I each score hits. It's still up, but starting to falter, dropping heavily to one knee. it tries to bring its gun back up, but is jerked again by another shot. I hear the loud report of a large caliber rifle and know Mikhail is ok. Sumie and I each score a hit on the thing, which finally decides to die. Letting out a blood curdling, low pitched roar, the thing clutches its chest and falls face first into the sand. Mikhail, cool as a Moscow ice bar in winter, says "Target down."

As Sumie and I look at each other incredulously we hear Son come over our squad net. "Holy fucking, son of a shit. Everyone ok?"

I hear Mikhail "Four up." Sumie "Two up." Me "One up."

Son again, "Stand by, let me see what's up."

While Son talks to Lt. White, Sumie and I just look at each other. She mouths "Holy Fuck." at the same time I mouth "Fucking shit dude."

"Good news team, Bravo is good to go; Lt. White says thanks for letting them get some shots in so they could take their guy down. Everyone back on top net." I click over and check in with the rest of Alpha. Lt. White's voice crackles over the net. "Ok team, looks like we're all somehow still alive. There's a total of three of those things down. We don't know how many are left in the UFO. Alpha, take position on those two hills and watch our backs while we take clearing duties."

Son Rogers up. He orders Sumie and Mikhail to take the first hill while Son and I take the second. Once we're in position, We realize we can see a little bit into the top of the UFO. It's hard to make out anything around the glare coming off the skin of the ship, but it doesn't look like anything is moving around inside. I can't even see Bravo go through the entry routine. All I can do is wait as I hear the door slide open, then hear the "Whump, Whump" of two grenades going off as I see the flashes inside the UFO.

I hear Donald report over the net. "Inside's completely blown to shit. Looks like there's the leftovers from two of those things around with a lot of guts and stuff. You know, this reminds of the one when Riker was on an away mission..."


End file.
